Quiet be of the Cemetery
And of sparse oaks
The sparse oaks
And the more frequent yews
And the winds shall be dusk
For they shall placate
And they shall be sad
And creaking
Creaking
The thick trees
Scenting the yews
In their grilling sighs
Rasping
Under a few sundry
Stars
And
Moon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem